Wallflowers
by nedlovesyou
Summary: Her hand does not fit into a perfect mold with his, their outfits clash, his hair is untamed, her foot lands clumsily atop his - but they're dancing and suddenly none of it matters. Dan/Blair.


**Mid-3x18.**

**My first shot at DB! I'm still getting a feel for writing them, so bear with me. Also, ****just as a warning, there's very little dialogue in this and a whole lot of excessive description; your eyes will most definitely hurt by the end.  
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**Enjoy!**

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Her eyes are burning holes into the skin of her smirking ex-boyfriend when she feels a shoulder brush subtly against hers, her face twisting out of the grimace it had been holding and shifting her gaze slightly only to be met with a scoffing Dan Humphrey. Without even the smallest hint of acknowledgment, she turns back to the sight before her just in time to catch the intoxicated Chuck Bass order another drink for his bimbo. Dan, too, follows suit and purses his lips at the image of Chuck gazing into the eyes of this faceless woman, perceptive and experienced enough to realize that this is simply a ploy to send Blair into a frenzy. He's spent so much time being a mere decoration at these events, the ultimate insider and most well known wallflower of the Upper East side, that the small observations he's made over the years have made the once thrillingly scandalous world of Manhattan's elite a whole lot more predictable. He's sure that Chuck's plan is completely built off of shamelessly flirting with different, nameless women right in front of Blair until she's fumed so much she reaches her boiling point and gives into him once more, claiming jealousy to be the driving force and admitting a realization that she truly does belong with him in some epic confession of the decades. In actuality it probably wouldn't be as theatrical, but glancing at Blair, he thinks for a moment that it just might be.

Suddenly, it's as if his legs start moving without his consent and in the next instant he's directly in front of her, obscuring her view of the pair. Half of him expects her to murmur some sort of, "Go away Humphrey, I'm in the middle of something," or at least step to the side so she can continue watching, but when his gaze shifts again her eyes meet his and she remains still. It surprises him, at first, but he manages to follow through nevertheless.

"Just to clarify," he begins, "I do think you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy." The words, he decides, are simple and straightforward yet sufficient enough in getting his point across. He's inwardly amused at the irony of his own thoughts, being that up until about an hour ago he didn't even have a point of any sort to get across to anyone, let alone Blair Waldorf. Up until around six o'clock this evening, he'd felt that what he'd said to her yesterday was perfectly adequate in that it was (or at least seemed to be) the truth and part of her was clearly comforted. As far as he was concerned, he'd done his part in helping along the twisted romance between the infamous star-crossed lovers of the Upper East Side - just as he'd done a year ago, when he stopped a fleeing Chuck Bass on the middle of an abandoned staircase to tell him that Blair would have admitted her love to him had he not scared her out of it.

Two hours ago, however, he'd thought that Blair was perfectly happy in her relationship with Chuck. An hour and a half ago, he was simply a flower on the wall observing a ceremony in which the deemed happy couple were planning on walking a future Mr. and Mrs. Szadkowski down the isle. At the time, him having told her that she and Chuck were meant for each other was okay because if that was what really made them both happy, then in his eyes, they truly were meant for each other. An hour and three minutes ago, the happy couple were called to escort the soon to be newlyweds down the isle and Chuck stepped forward with a proud head held high as the crowd looked on respectfully, patiently waiting for his girlfriend to inevitably join him with a straight spine and smile.

But an hour ago, she cried.

"Well, coming as it does from someone who dates Vanessa Abrams, it means very little to me," she responds to him quickly, and he's torn away from his flood of thoughts. A smirk has settled across her lips, he sees, and her arms are still crossed, shoulders square with her nose lifted in the air as if she's looking down on him. She's being snarky and condescending and arrogant, and all the while he's thinking to himself that he wouldn't have her any other way. He doesn't bother to try suppressing the laugh that rises from his chest, though subconsciously he knows that laughing at a predominantly snide remark about his girlfriend is probably never the right thing to do, but she's smirking (not crying) and suddenly he's okay with it. "But still," she begins to add, her gaze lifting to meet his before sincerely saying, "thank you, Humphrey."

In that moment, something changes - he's not quite sure what, at first, but he's sure of the fact. It takes not a second after for him to realize that he's not grimacing or rolling his eyes or preparing for a fight as he usually does during conversations with Blair Waldorf, and not long after that does he suddenly just _know _that after all she's put him and his family through in high school, all of the snide remarks she's made about his clothing and/or overall personality, and all of the games she's played that he's inadvertently been a victim of, he cares about her. He doesn't know why; he just knows that he does.

"Care for a dance?" he asks, the words coming out of his mouth without anticipation or question. As much as he knows that she's somewhat thankful for him being here (and only _somewhat _thankful because Blair Waldorf doesn't really do thankful) he also knows that asking her to dance with him - as in actually touch, for an extended period of time - is an almost impossible request. Nevertheless he holds out his hand, because _almost _impossible is not impossible, and surprisingly she takes it.

"I guess," she sighs, her expression reflecting a strong quality of disinterest as her nose crinkles. Her fingers wrap around his, though, and as skin touches skin she leads him to the dance floor. With intertwined hands, she weaves them through pairs of twirling boys, girls, ladies, gentlemen and she can just imagine how she must look to all of those people right now. After all, she's hand in hand with Dan Humphrey, so of course they must be saying to themselves, 'Who is she again? Blair Waldorf? But Blair Waldorf would _never _dance with Dan Humphrey. It's simply impossible.' She doesn't dare look into the faces of the crowd to confirm her suspicions, because she's more than sure that it's more of a fact than an inkling.

Soon, they reach a clearing in the crowd and she spins to face him as he reaches an arm around her back and pulls her closer. She lifts a hand to rest atop his shoulder and it feels much too formal for the kind of song that's playing, but suddenly he starts swaying to the rhythm and before long she joins him. Now, she's grown up attending classes in preparation for events like Cotillion and this whole carefree swaying business isn't exactly the Waltz, so she drops her head to observe his feet and see if there's any pattern to the way he's moving them. Her eyes scan each direction they travel and her brain tries rapidly to keep up with the movements while simultaneously trying to actually figure them out, and before she knows it she's lost her way and her foot clumsily falls onto his. When she hears the sound of a laugh fill the air around her, her gaze shifts quickly back to him and her eyes are met with the sight of a smirk across his lips.

"It's not funny, Cabbage Patch!" she snaps as she continues struggling to keep the rhythm, knotting her eyebrows in an accusing glare.

"Actually, Waldorf, it kind of is," he responds through another laugh.

"You know, I wouldn't be acting so high and mighty if I had hair like yours," she bites back snidely with the first insult that comes to mind. She decides, though she definitely could have come up with something a little more clever under different circumstances (preferably circumstances in which she was not dancing with him and he was not the better of the two) it's not an entirely pathetic remark because, after all, have you _seen _his hair?

"What do you mean, hair like mine?" he questions quickly with a furrowed brow.

"It's a disaster!" she exclaims before adding shrewdly, "you look like Russell Brand after a long day in the humidity."

"What next, you're going to tell me our outfits clash?" he fights back without missing a beat.

"Well, they certainly don't match," she purses her lips proudly because it's an adequate response and she seems to have gotten the hang of this _swaying _thing.

"I'll make sure to call you next time so we can color coordinate them," he adds sarcastically with finality in his tone, finality that she certainly would have been sure to ignore being the music didn't suddenly change. The electro-pop beat of the previous selection fades, being replaced with a much slower and more intimate piece being played by the Polish band toward the front of the room. It's primarily an acoustic guitar, being strummed unhurriedly and passionately, along with a faint piano being played in the background. She's transported to another world for a moment, a world without obstacles or hardships or really anything at all but loveliness - love of the purest and simplest kind.

"_Pure and simple love…"_

Suddenly, she's pulled back to reality when Humphrey clears his throat awkwardly and she sees that the atmosphere has clearly changed. It's now that she realizes how relaxed she was not a minute before, swaying to an electro-pop song in the arms of Dan Humphrey and arguing about his hair. There was no pressure, no fear - just freedom.

Now, there's awkwardness.

"Uh," he murmurs, the uncertainty evident in his tone. He's internally stumbling, his mind going back and forth between whether or not to pull away or just keep going as all of the pairs around them pull each other closer and start moving in pace with the slow melody of the music. He dares to lift his gaze to meet hers, and he sees that her eyes are flickering between himself, the ground, the people around them, and the band. He looks down at the ground uncomfortably to avoid possibly awkward eye contact, when suddenly he feels her beginning to pull her hand out of his. As one hand drops to his side, he lifts his other off of her back and starts to pull away as well, because he's more than sure that that's what she's doing, but unexpectedly she wraps her arms around his neck. His eyebrows furrow in unmasked confusion as his gaze meets hers once more and she offers nothing but a subtle shrug of the shoulders in response, opting to take a small step closer to him. His hands, once resting at his side, rise back up again to grip her waist as he faintly guides her in order to get used to this new movement. They're swaying, still, but at a much slower and fluid pace, and it takes a few extra moments for them to readjust to it all, but they do. His hands, while his eyes remain locked with hers, slide slowly across the sequined fabric of her dress before settling gently on the small of her back. At this, he gulps audibly because he's so unprepared for and shocked at all of this that it makes him nervous.

Two years ago, he recalls, he was at Cotillion dancing this way with the golden goddess herself Serena van Der Woodsen, dipping her and twirling her and holding her. Tonight, right now, he's moving in time with her calculating best friend Blair Waldorf - the same Blair Waldorf who not only adopted his little sister as her own personal servant all those years ago, but was nothing but against him from the very beginning. She would condescendingly call him Brooklyn, Cabbage Patch, even _charity case _at one point in junior year. He remembers all of this, remembers all of the times she was cruel to him and his family or made a nasty remark about his taste in clothing, yet he's still dancing with her. He's still, somehow, enjoying the way the skin of her fingertips feels pressed against the back of his neck and how she's so close to him that he can feel her breath against his chest, although he still remembers.

He remembers meeting her at a brunch for Chuck Bass and being immediately thrust into her world of love triangles and scandals, approaching her in a vacant corridor, telling her that his mother left and that he wishes he could have said something to her about it. He recalls Serena bringing her to the loft on the Thanksgiving of two years ago and subsequently the first time she meets Cedric, sending her home in a cab, calling her to devise a plan to get rid of Georgina, advising her on how to go about sleeping with Chuck, encouraging her to throw herself at him, realizing she's in love with him, confessing to her the fear built up within him before telling Serena he loved her for the first time, arguing with her in the girls' bathroom, starring alongside her in The Age of Dissonance, missing her ego demolitions, calling her to devise yet another plan to, this time, get rid of Carter, not being stopped as he throws her headband to the ground, taking her to her first college party, working with her on a Lady Gaga inspired play, running to her door to tell her that Serena's been in a car accident, and bringing ice into the kitchen to find her already there, broken like a shattered glass vase.

As they're bodies continue moving in unison, his arms still wrapped around her back, her arms still wrapped around his neck, and their unblinking eyes still connected, this is what he thinks of.

At first, she thinks of Chuck. She thinks of how Chuck's hands fit better with hers than Dan's do, how they always have - from the very beginning. Then she loses herself in memories of dancing at Victrola, losing her virginity in a silky black limo, stealing kisses in her bedroom, pursuing her forbidden love, fighting him at Cotillion, fighting him in the courtyard, raising a glass at his father's wedding, kissing him, being abandoned by him, asking for an admission of love from him, being denied an admission of love from him, playing games, hurting, admitting her love, being rejected, being depressed, being afraid for his life on a tall rooftop, avoiding him, running away, playing more games, fighting at graduation, admitting her love again, being rejected again, being brought flowers and (finally) a confession of love, being in a relationship, playing more games, waking up next to him the morning, comforting him, being there for him, ending things with him, dancing with him, walking away from him, standing alone in a kitchen afterward only to be approached by an ice-carrying Dan Humphrey.

Then, as they glide in time with his arms around her, she thinks of Dan.

She remembers learning from Jenny of his cabbage patch, being found by him in an abandoned corridor after he witnesses her fight with Serena, telling her of his mother's abrupt departure and how he wishes he could just say anything to her only so that she would know, realizing that his situation was nearly identical to hers, talking to Serena later that night. She thinks of showing up at his loft after relapsing on the Thanksgiving of two years ago, the pleasure of meeting Cedric, being sent home by him in a cab, accepting a call from him to devise a plan to expel Georgina, taking his scheming-virginity, being encouraged by him to play more games with Chuck, inadvertently confessing to him that she's in love with Chuck, being filled by him with enough confidence to finally tell Chuck, having the confidence ripped away from her by him in a Brooklyn art gallery, spotting him and Ms. Carr in a Constance Billard corridor, bickering with him in the girls' washroom, working with him on The Age of Dissonance, confirming his Gossip Girl given label at a graduation party, accepting yet another call to help execute yet another plan, this time, to expel Carter, allowing him to toss her headband to the ground of an empty staircase, being taken by him to her first and only college party, working with him on yet another play, eavesdropping on his and Vanessa's conversation at Thanksgiving, answering his knock on her door, hearing him say, "Just to clarify, I do think you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy," and accepting his invitation to dance.

Suddenly, she feels unbelievably dizzy and she allows her head fall onto his shoulder. With the eye contact broken and her face out of his sight, he's left with nothing more to distract him and, as her head lays softly on his shoulder and his hands rest lightly on the small of her back and he continues swaying in time with her, he thinks of Vanessa. He should probably call her tonight, he decides, because they only sent each other a few text messages this morning and they haven't spoken to each other since then. He'll ask her if she's enjoying herself in Vermont, tell her how much he misses her, how much he loves her. He's planning all of this out in his head, everything he's going to say to her, and it doesn't once occur to him that he's never thought ahead for a conversation with her before.

Meanwhile, Blair is so close to him that he can smell the vanilla and cinnamon scent of her hair. It's nice, he thinks.

He won't tell Vanessa about Blair, he decides, because there's nothing really to tell as far as he's concerned - he's just helping her out like he's always done in the past when there's no one else there for her, because even though he would never directly say it aloud, he cares for her. Vanessa cares about Nate, and even if _she _would never admit it aloud, part of her cares about Chuck as well and it's perfectly okay for him to care about someone other than her, even if it is Blair Waldorf.

As he's going through all of this in his head, Blair's mind is completely blank whilst she hears his heart beating in his chest. It's slow and steady and calming, and she likes it.

Suddenly, the world around them goes quiet for the smallest moment as the music comes to an end and all of the separate couples remain completely still for just the tiniest amount of time before pulling away from their partner and beginning to clap. As they're all applauding the band, Dan and Blair remain in their still position, and for just a second it feels like it's only them - only them in an isolated world far, far apart from everything and everyone in this room. They are oblivious to everyone just as everyone is oblivious to them; they are just flowers on a stone wall.

Then, without warning, the moment ends. She lifts her head off his shoulder and pulls her hands back to her body as he releases his hold on her waist and they both join the others in clapping, neither one daring to steal a glance at the other but instead gluing their eyes to the band as they take a bow. The applause slowly fades to that of a dull roar and before long everyone begins mingling again, returning to empty conversations of ravish ceremonies and property shares, leaving a quiet Dan and Blair to their lonesome.

Simultaneously they turn to each other and state, "I need a drink."

"Good," she adds not a second later, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly as a small smile settles on her lips, "then you'll get them."

_Them,_ he thinks to himself. Is he just imagining things, or does Blair Waldorf actually want to drink with him? He blinks, thinking that when he opens his eyes she'll have already gone to the bar to get her own drink, but when his eyes reopen she's still there, a brow lifted quizzically at his unmoving reaction. He laughs breathily, looking down at the floor with a shake of the head in a sort of disbelief before lifting his gaze back up and nodding her way in affirmation. She seems to accept this, nodding slightly before turning on her heel and walking the other way.

For reasons unknown, he's still smiling when he orders the drinks. As the bartender turns to fill the glasses, he surveys the room quickly and before he knows what he's doing he's scanned the room for her and spotted her on the opposite side of the room with Cyrus and Eleanor.

"Can I get two more of those, please?" he turns to the bartender, who obliges to his request and fills two more glasses with alcohol. "Thanks," he mumbles, grabbing the four glasses off the counter and expertly navigating himself through the crowd of people. For a moment, he's struck with just how odd he could possibly consider this, but decides that right now, it doesn't really matter. He's going to have a drink with Blair Waldorf, Eleanor Waldorf, and Cyrus Rose and though under normal circumstances this would _never _happen, tonight is different for some reason and he doesn't really mind.

"I've got shots for you!" he shouts with a laugh over the music as he approaches them, smiling politely as he passes out the glasses amongst them. After handing Cyrus and Eleanor their shots, he turns to Blair to hand her hers and as he does he looks up at her seeing that, for a split second, she's smiling at him. It's one of those uncontrollable, unexpected smiles; he can tell because the second she grabs hold of the glass and the tips of her fingers brush lightly against his, her face falls completely as if she just told herself to stop.

As he clinks glasses with Cyrus and Eleanor, he looks toward them and just catches them send a knowing sort of look each other's way as he and Blair toast their drinks. He looks to Blair, whose expression remains unchanged, and figures to himself that she hadn't seen it before dismissing the thought completely and tossing back his drink. Still, she throws back her drink just as hungrily as he does because somehow, somewhere, they both know that things are about to change.

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**So, what do you think? It's lacking something in the middle, I feel, but I've honestly rewritten that section so many times and was totally making no improvement whatsoever. Also, keep in mind**** that any remarks about Dan's hair are strictly thoughts belonging to Blair and not me. I, personally, love it. ;)  
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**Reviews are appreciated!  
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